Stories of the Seven
by Suzukata
Summary: 100 short stories about the Shichinintai before death, after death, and all that could ever come after. Het, yaoi, and yuri abound.
1. Broken

**071. Broken **

**Title: **The Last One Breathing

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing/Characters/s: **Shichinintai, some implied Bankotsu/Jakotsu

**Word Count: **1,181

**Warning/s: **People dying. Descriptions of torture in some detail, and rape is implied.

**Summary: **In the end, they were all beheaded, but first, they were broken; one by one by one.

**Dedication: **For Rin-oneechan, who had no clue what I was babbling about and hates Inuyasha, but puts up with me anyway and tells me when my ideas are crap.

**A/N: **So, I was re-watching episode 110, and I thought, 'Damn. They really, really hate the people in that castle.' Which, you know, _duh,_ but the strength of their hatred seems a little, oh . . . excessive. That led me to wondering about what would make someone hate another group of people that much. And, bingo! Three hours later, this story was born.

* * *

In a way, Kyoukotsu is the luckiest one of them all; an arrow between the eyes, barely enough time for his eyes to go wide with shock, and then he's just gone. No suffering; not enough _time _to suffer. Just a little pain, and then . . . the blissful realm of nothingness.

Bankotsu knows that they are going to be caught at least a week before it happens; they all know it, deep down inside. He can see it in their eyes. And while Bankotsu knows that when they are caught, they will be killed, the idea of being _tortured_ has never occurred to him.

But they are soon caught, though they kill enough of those bastards for the leaders to get a little worried first, and the first thing that happens reminds him that _killing people slowly_ and _torture_ are two very different things.

Ginkotsu dies first; they melt all the metal in him down while forcing the rest of them to watch, and the stink of burning flesh, thick and choking, hangs about them like a bad dream, and when the small, twitching, twisted mass of flesh and metal that is all that's left of Ginkotsu, is pulled out of the dying embers, that _damned General _beheads him without blinking. There is a soft, sudden 'gesh' from the dying man, as if the air is being shoved out of his heaving lungs in one, final effort, and then – nothing.

All of them are shaken, but Renkotsu is the worst off, and Suikotsu's personalities are both too paralyzed by anger and worry for one to be chosen as the dominant personality. They both just sit there, comatose and shaking slightly.

Mukotsu is next, and his suffering makes Jakotsu cry out in shared agony and helplessness, and hide his face in the curve of Bankotsu's shoulder, because his arms are tied behind his back, just like Bankotsu's. They drag knives across that already homely face, and long, thin needles are shoved into pressure points, until the poison master is no more than a pile of ripped up flesh and metal, already in so much agony that further torture or pain can no longer reach him. This time, when that _goddamned bastard _raises his sword, he smirks before it falls.

Bankotsu has never hated anyone this much in his life; he whispers soothing words, of slaughtering their enemies and painting with their blood, to Jakotsu, and plans out his revenge.

When it's Renkotsu's turn though, there is a small amount of childish satisfaction; Renkotsu does not scream, or cry, or show any signs of pain at all. They bring torches to his flesh until it has been burned black; hit him and slash lightly at him with their katanas and spears until his body is colored black and blue and stained bright red with blood. But through it all, Renkotsu does not make a sound, or show any emotion in the least. He simply stares straight ahead, eyes glazed and dull.

The wind carries the sound of Renkotsu's wild laughter in the moments before the sword falls upon his neck, and Bankotsu smiles a vicious, sharp-fanged smile at that _fucking son of a whore_. The smile says '**we're not gonna go in peace, you stupid son of a bitch'** and '**we're gonna kill you, and it's gonna be a thousand times more creative than this'**.

It gives him no small amount of satisfaction when there is a tiny flash of uneasiness in those tiny, narrowed eyes.

Suikotsu's torture is done more in his head than to his body; they lay the bodies of dead children out before him, some killed by sickness, others by some accident, but a few who were caught out in that wretched, wretched snow and froze to death. With his hands tied behind his back, Suikotsu's doctor side cannot touch them, or try and bring them back to life, but his killing side cannot reach out to them, or slash and destroy and erase them forever from his host's mind. Torn between both sides, but being unable to satisfy either, Suikotsu's mind cannot take it any longer; he can do nothing but scream in agony as his mind is ripped in two.

As the sword strikes Suikotsu's head from his neck, the screaming finally stops, cut off so suddenly, it's as if all the sound in the world has been stopped, but Jakotsu's heart-broken sobs still ring in Bankotsu's ears. That _fucking General _laughs heartily now, mocking their agony and suffering in a way that Bankotsu can _never forgive_. He vows to haunt this man, if it comes to that, and to kill him, if he lives.

He is not forced to watch them torture Jakotsu, but he can hear everything, and in a way, that's worse. Jakotsu's pain is the one he feels the most, and the one that makes him want to be sick and kill _every single one of these goddamned bastards_ in the most painful, drawn out way that he can think of. They drag his effeminate friend into a shack, without a single word, but Bankotsu can guess what they are doing to him; Jakotsu's screams of horror and agony echo in his ears. Gasps and sobs of humiliated pain mingle with groans of pleasure and hateful laughter, and Bankotsu grinds his teeth and hates.

One of those hated hands reaches down and yanks Jakotsu's hair, hard, and exposes those bruised cheeks and swollen lips, and then that _fucking asshole _looks down and _leers_ at the slender man, which makes Jakotsu's eyes go wide and frightened. Then, faster than Bankotsu's eyes can possibly follow, that sword swings down, biting into that pale, soft skin at the back of the pretty man's neck. Jakotsu's eyes widen for a moment, the pupils dilated hugely, so that no color can be seen; just two pools of infinite blackness, sucking Bankotsu in.

And then, there is nothing left in him but hate, and the mad desire to kill.

* * *

_There is a story that has been told around the campfires of soldiers for years upon years. It is about the Shichinintai; and their leader Bankotsu, who killed 999 men before he died._

_They say that when he was dragged up before the General, he just _looked _at the man, and that his eyes could have frozen a God in its tracks. They were cold, and wild, and filled with hate and rage and a madness so strong that it seemed as if he would be able to kill with a glance._

_The General beheaded him quickly, trying to gain relief from that terrible gaze, trying to forget those hateful eyes._

_But they continued to stare, even once the blood had stopped flowing._

_A tomb was built, and the bodies buried properly, in hopes that the spirits would be pleased, or at least be put to proper rest. _

_Still, it was rumored that the General sometimes woke up yelling, grasping for his sword, and covered in sweat. Others said that sometimes, when he walked past the tomb, the ghosts would follow him for days, taunting him until he went nearly mad with terror._

_At the very least, all of Ushitora knew better than to try and meet the General's eyes._

* * *

And that's all folks!

Now, I'm not a review-dependent author, so this'll be updated no matter what.

However . . .

I do _enjoy_ getting reviews, even if it's flaming from some thirteen year old in Texas. So, just . . . keep that in mind.


	2. Sunrise

**031. Sunrise**

**Title: **Wait With Me

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing/Characters/s: **Bankotsu/Jakotsu, Renkotsu, Shichinintai

**Word Count: **871

**Warning/s: **Mentions of death, shounen-ai, language

**Summary: **Watching the sun rise is supposed to be romantic; today, it's heartbreaking.

**Dedication: **My Dad, for finally making me sit down and work on some stories for a change. Thanks Dad; I'd be totally lost without you. Know that I owe you forever for everything that you've done for me.

**A/N: **Oh boy. I'm so sorry everyone! Everything's just been so hectic for me lately; I failed this _class_, there was this _essay_, I discovered that I'm actually a _lesbian_ . . . all that jazz. But lo! I have returned! And I promise; _at least _one update every day for the rest of Christmas Break, and _at least _one update every week after that. Y'all can choose which day.

* * *

I'm just watching them today.

If it were any other time, I would remind them; I would remind them that there is work to be done, that they can cuddle later, that I don't need to see this disgusting display of affection, that this isn't the best time. I would do something and make them part from each other, because life must go on for now.

But today, I'm just watching them.

They're on the deck, looking up at the stars and watching as our home planet shrinks into the distance, inch by inch. It's still easy to see though; a huge ball of hard, red clay, with only a thin layer of white clouds to shield it from the rest of the Universe. Once, I was with them, sitting on that ball, looking out at the Universe and wondering what was out there, and how I could reach it.

Looking at that huge red ball of clay, I remember just how desperate we were to get off, and panic surges through my system before I stop the impulses. Control is the key, and I will not surrender it to some base survival instinct.

They're just sitting there, side by side; I can't see their faces, being behind them, but I know what they'd look like if I could.

Bankotsu's eyes should be wide and staring, fixed on that hunk of dead rock as if the moment that he blinks, it will disappear into the Black. One arm winds around Jakotsu's narrow, bony shoulders, and strokes his hair, more gentle than Suikotsu with an ill child. The other is holding onto Jakotsu's own arm, which is wrapped across Bankotsu chest, those long, thin fingers clutching at the younger boy's shoulder.

Jakotsu's eyes are probably shut tight, as if that might keep what's going to happen from happening. He's curled himself around and against Bankotsu, arms clinging tightly to the younger boy's shoulders, knuckles almost white from the sheer force behind that grip. Even though his eyes are closed, his face is also tilted upwards, pointed at what was once our home, but he won't look until the very last moment.

In a way, I think I can understand their pain, but in another way, I keep myself from even beginning to. So I remain in the middle. Silent. Watching.

Suikotsu once mentioned something about how watching the sun rise was supposed to be romantic, or some such nonsense. Romantic, feh. As if our dear schizophrenic doctor even has a romantic bone in his body. As if any of us do.

Mukotsu's shouting at Kyoukotsu; something about not eating something, but it's too far away, and I'm not really listening. Right about now is the time I should be telling them to get up, go help the others, _something_.

But I don't. Right now, I'm just watching.

Slowly, one by one, pale, silvery rays of sunlight begin to peek over the side of our planet. Bankotsu shakes Jakotsu gently; I can imagine his eyes snapping open, instantly fixated on this sunrise.

The last sunrise.

It's beautiful, and part of me steps back, and sees how watching this could be considered romantic, while the other part of me ignores everything but the pale light of the sun bursting over the rim of the planet.

If we were in a movie, there would be music now; wild and delicate and passionate and tender violins, maybe pianos and flutes, all thrown together in one glorious, breathtaking moment that would remind us of this every time we heard it.

But all that I hear is the sound of metal banging, and Kyoukotsu laughing loudly from the engine room, Mukotsu's shouting occasionally managing to penetrate the booming noise.

We watch as the sun climbs up, until finally, it hangs over that rock of clay, a small, shining bauble, more beautiful than anything I've ever seen before in my life.

They're holding each other even more tightly now, and I almost say something, but I don't. Both of them know what's coming next; I can see Jakotsu trembling slightly, unable to look away.

I watch.

All in one breath, the sun goes out.

It doesn't fade slowly: the last rays of silver light dancing frantically across the nose of our ship, or go out with a bang: pale light suddenly becoming strong, blinding us for a moment, and when we look back, it is gone.

No, neither of those happens; dramatic as they are, I don't think any of us could bear it. The light simply ceases, and the sun becomes a cold, black ball of ash and stone.

I watch as my home planet dies, and Jakotsu begins to keen softly, tears catching starlight as they fall down his face. Bankotsu pulls him closer, and begins to hum a lullaby under his breath, sometimes pressing gentle kisses to Jakotsu's forehead.

This is no longer something for me to see; I turn to leave, and I make no sound as I shut the door behind me.

Watching the sun rise is supposed to be romantic, beautiful, and wonderful; today, it is heartbreaking to see.

But still, I will watch, so that I might see the difference between them.

* * *

Aaaand that's a wrap!

Sorry I've been gone for so long; but, like I said, _at least_ one update per day until January 2nd, and then _at least_ one update per week forever and ever after that (unless I say otherwise).

Just to let y'all know, I'm not just doing the 100 prompt table thing; I've got other challenges too, so I'm going to post them as well. Don't worry; they'll be clearly labeled.

Now, _show me that you love me_!

- Suzu


	3. Affection

**Title: Conditional Love**  
**Theme:** Set #1, Theme 63, Affection  
**Genres:** AU, fluffy romance, a little cross-dressing and minor angst  
**Pairings Represented:** Renkotsu/Jakotsu, minor Suikotsu/Kikyou  
**Word Count: **3,312  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary: **Renkotsu does not love his wife, and Jakotsu does not love him. Such a thing isn't possible, because Renkotsu won't let love destroy his plans.

* * *

The first time that Renkotsu meets the girl he is to going to marry one day, he is four, and she has just been born a few weeks from today.

He looks down into her cradle, and for a brief instant, their eyes connect; wide, shiny black eyes staring deep into the depths of narrowed, analytical brown ones. One of her hands reaches up, and for a second, her chubby fingers are wrapped around one of his own.

Then, the moment has passed, and Renkotsu is whisked away to spend the rest of the day listening to people talking about politics, filing it all away for later.

He does not think that she looks like much of a Princess, and tells this to his Mother, after they have left and are safely within their own borders. She smiles gently, and pats him softly on the arm before turning to his Father and beginning a conversation about the gardens.

--

When they meet again, he is seven, and she is three years old. It is not really a meeting, more of a gathering, to celebrate the birth of her younger brother, the Prince Bankotsu.

Again, their eyes meet; this time, she sits beside a small pond, tracing ripples with her fingers, and when she looks up at him, he can see the intelligence hidden behind those wide, black eyes. Together, they sit in silence, watching the birds and cherry blossoms and the still, flat waters of the lake.

Neither of them speaks a word; somehow, such things are unnecessary.

By the time they leave, she is no longer the Princess in his mind; somehow, she has become _his _Princess, and he vows that he will do his best to make sure that she is as content as possible.

This time, when he leaves, he asks his Mother what his Princess' name is, and she tells him that it is _Jakotsu_, Snake Bone.

He does not think it is a good name for her, but says nothing of this to his mother. He suspects that she would not approve.

--

For the next six years, he learns small things about his Princess from visiting nobles and messengers; she is small and slender, likes pretty things, enjoys dancing, is rather shy, and is well known for being extraordinarily bad at calligraphy. This information is added to what he already knows of her; she has odd eyes, does not appear to speak often, appears to be able to read others, likes silence, and doesn't seem like much of a Princess.

His opinion of her has not changed, but he keeps such thoughts to himself.

--

The next time that they meet, he is twelve, she is eight, and her little brother is five, though Renkotsu does not see him more than once or twice.

She is old enough to speak now, and he can see that she clever, perhaps even as clever as he is. All their talk is small, polite and detached, as is proper, but he cannot shake the feeling of her eyes on him.

It is as if she is studying him, carefully, trying to decide what she will eventually do with him.

Such thoughts make him uneasy, and he thinks about his Princess and her eyes the whole way back, as his Mother watches on in silent approval.

--

When he next hears about his Princess, he is fourteen, and it is a messenger with a white face and shaking hands who delivers the news to his Mother and Father. Renkotsu stands, unnoticed, beside his Mother, listens calmly to the tale; the ten year old Jakotsu-hime has been very ill, and though she will live, the fever has made her body too weak to ever bear children.

Father looks uneasy, but Mother speaks softly to him, and in the end, it is decided that Renkotsu will still marry Jakotsu-hime; he is only the second son, after all, and children are not nearly as important as the alliance that will be formed by the marriage.

Though his mind is torn and caught up in a whirlwind of confusion, he is careful to remember his mother's words, and he makes a second vow; he will prove them all wrong, and his son will be a mighty daimyou, as clever as his father and as careful as his mother.

--

On their next meeting, his Princess has a guard with her now, but she does not appear to mind, and the man, who looks to be around seventeen or so and is called Suikotsu, seems to be genuinely fond of her, so Renkotsu has no objections to the arrangement.

The occasion is Jakotsu-hime's eleventh birthday, though the celebration itself is small and soon over, leaving their parents to speak of politics and further arrangements; the wedding will be soon, as soon as Renkotsu has turned sixteen.

Throughout the celebration, his Princess' face is calm and blank as a stone, and she is nearly motionless, though her brother, with all the energy one could expect from an eight year old boy, squirms impatiently, eager to be free.

Soon, he and his Princess are sent into a smaller garden so that they might speak without being disturbed. Bankotsu and Suikotsu trail behind them, the guard entertaining the boy with such ease that Renkotsu decides that Bankotsu must need constant entertainment.

Then, unexpectedly, his Princess speaks.

"I am not what you think I am," she murmurs, her voice low and husky. Eyes narrowed, Renkotsu nods at her to continue, and she pauses briefly before going on.

"It is true that I was ill earlier this year, but that is not what makes me unable to bear children. That is not it at all."

Her eyes, wide and earnest, seek his own eyes out, before her thin hands dart out to catch one of his own.

Suddenly, Renkotsu knows.

It does not matter why they did it, or how they managed it so well, or what they intended by such a deception. All that matters is that they did, and it succeeded.

For the first time, he looks into those eyes, black and shining and layered with carefully prepared calm, and he sees what is there. There is cleverness, and deception, and loyalty, and the ability to become someone new altogether.

Such abilities are what he himself values most.

Slowly, Renkotsu smiles at his betrothed, and bends down to kiss his hand, never looking away from those eyes.

"Such things matter not to me."

Jakotsu smiles, and he can see the cunning in that smile; knows it is a near perfect reflection of his own, which only makes him smile wider.

Here is a man who, for some reason, has been denied the chance to ever take what was rightfully his; Renkotsu has been denied the chance to ever take what he could handle best.

Together, they will take that.

Together, they will seize power and hold it tight.

Together, they will be great.

--

Within the year, they are married, and Jakotsu is brought back to their home, where he swiftly becomes the pet of all the servants, Mother's adopted daughter, and Father's favorite listener.

Renkotsu watches, and smiles secretly to himself.

Suikotsu is chosen to guard their room at night, and Renkotsu realizes that Suikotsu also knows the truth about Jakotsu, but that the man would rather die than betray the disguised boy whom he protects.

Loyalty is something that Renkotsu can use.

During the day, they play the perfect couple; Renkotsu is the silent, studious, yet ever-so caring husband, and Jakotsu is the frail, demure, but oh-so loving wife. They play their parts well, and everyone is fooled.

Best of all, there is no love in it at all.

For Renkotsu must always remind himself that Jakotsu is his accomplice, his tool, his weapon of choice, and nothing more. Love would make things complicated; nothing runs smoothly when love is involved. It is a lesson he has learned from watching countless others.

Come nightfall, they go to the same bed, but they never touch each other, and each looks away from the other.

--

It is several years before Renkotsu begins to realize that his plan is coming unraveled at the seams; he is twenty, Jakotsu is sixteen, Suikotsu is twenty-two, and Bankotsu, who continues to insist on visiting his 'sister', is only thirteen.

The realization comes during a visit from the Prince, while Renkotsu is watching his 'wife' and 'her' brother, sitting beneath a sakura tree, from a safe distance. Suikotsu is with him, for Jakotsu requested some privacy with the Prince.

As they watch, Bankotsu chatters on, waving his hands excitedly to illustrate his newest tale, frequently glancing up at his 'sister', watching 'her' expressions carefully. Jakotsu smiles in that way of his; eyes closing, mouth just slightly opened with the potential for a laugh, and every inch of his face radiates sheer joy.

Then, when Bankotsu is looking away from his 'sister', gesturing wildly in the air, Renkotsu sees Jakotsu's face change, suddenly and inexplicably, to an expression that he has never seen before.

Black eyes are soft and gentle as they look at the boy; those carefully painted lips close, but the smile they curve into is sweeter than the Prince's favorite rice candies; a few strands that long black hair, that Jakotsu is so fond of, suddenly slip loose, framing that delicate face, making it appear even more gentle and welcoming.

It disturbs him, his inability to name the emotion on 'her' face, and then it hits him.

Love.

It is love.

Pure, untainted love for 'her' brother.

Such an emotion was not one that he had though Jakotsu capable of, and now, to see it so clearly on his face like this, he feels off-balance. Unsure.

With sudden clarity, he grits his teeth as he plans around this. No matter what it tries, love will not keep him from his goals.

--

When he is twenty-three, something happens; something that even Renkotsu could have foreseen.

His Father dies of poisoning, and his older brother takes his place.

It all happens so fast, that Renkotsu cannot seem to manage to keep up. Still, he remains calm, and does not let on to how much the sudden shift in power has always bothered him, nor how much he knows about his brother's feelings toward him.

The night after the funeral, Jakotsu is waiting for him in bed, silent and grim.

"He will try and see us killed."

As soon as the words are out, he feels better; such an obstacle is regrettable, but once acknowledged, it can easily be planned around and worked past. Such a minor setback will not stop them for long.

Jakotsu merely nods, and looks at him.

"He shall be sorely disappointed then," whispers the man beside him, and Renkotsu smiles in anticipation.

Love has failed to stop him.

--

It has not even been a full six months before Renkotsu's brother tries to see him dead, and Renkotsu had not been expecting it.

Their room is ablaze, and he can hear the distant screaming of servant girls, but their words are inaudible, and it is not until he hears his Mother shrieking that he is able to tear his eyes away from the dancing flames, and dash inside.

His Mother is screaming for Jakotsu, and the name sparks panic inside of him.

The fire is hot; almost unbearable, but then Suikotsu is there, running alongside him, and he finds himself able to press on.

Somewhere, deep inside him, something is aching so badly that he wants to scream until his throat is raw and wet with blood, but he ignores it and presses on.

No emotions are needed now.

They find him, lying at the foot of the bed, curled up and coughing harshly, for his lungs are fragile already, and the thick, cloying smoke is doing them no good, but conscious and aware of the new figure in the room.

"Ren . . . kotsu," he manages to wheeze, before collapsing into another coughing fit.

Renkotsu carries him in his arms; ducking and darting past falling, burning planks of wood, trying to be careful as he tries to remain alive. Just ahead of him, Suikotsu clears the path as best he can, and Renkotsu realizes just how valuable an asset the man really is.

By the time they reach the outside again, the fire has spread, and Renkotsu shakes his head, sighing in sorrow at his foolish brother's plan.

He holds Jakotsu's shaking body close to his, and ignores the delighted screams from the women as he whispers into his ear.

"Are you well, oujou-sama?"

Jakotsu's laugh is thin and shaky, but his eyes are clear and lucid.

"As always when you are here, ouchou-sama."

It is another six hours before Renkotsu realizes that he recognizes the look on Jakotsu's face, because it is the same look that he used to look at his little brother, all those years ago. It is the same looks that he sometimes sees Suikotsu giving Kikyou-san, the nearby miko who spends much of her time taking long walks with the guard and his charge. It is the same look that he sometimes catches servant girls giving various guards, who will always pause and wink, or maybe even stop to steal a kiss or two.

Love has returned, and this time, it isn't giving up so soon.

--

One day, in late summer, Jakotsu appears in the doorway of the practice room, and simply waits, as is proper. Sighing, Renkotsu thanks Suikotsu, and moves towards his 'wife', slightly irritated by the interruption.

Before he can speak, Jakotsu pulls a boy out from behind his intricate kimono, and Renkotsu is silenced in an instant.

"I've adopted him. His name is Kohaku, and his family was killed in the war. Suikotsu looked him over, and he's quite healthy. I'm sure he'll be a suitable son," says Jakotsu mildly, those delicate white hands resting gently on the boy's shoulders.

Renkotsu looks at the boy, and sees that, for once, Jakotsu may indeed be right. The boy, Kohaku, is small and slender, with soft brown hair and a light sprinkling of freckles across his still-round face, and his eyes glow with trust and the promise of loyalty.

"How old are you?" he demands abruptly, watching as the boy starts, then turns to Jakotsu, unsure. With a kind nod from Renkotsu's ever-motherly 'wife', the boy looks back at Renkotsu, eyes determined.

"Eleven, sir."

It could work. Eleven is a good age; the boy can be trained to fight and sneak his way through the maze of bear traps that is this family. Renkotsu himself is only twenty-four, and Jakotsu twenty, but they will have other to help them with a child. Such a task is not impossible

As he nods his agreement, he watches Kohaku beam up at his new 'mother'; love and devotion and pure, wholesome trust shining in his innocent brown eyes. At the same time, he watches Jakotsu smile sweetly down at 'her' new son with that look in those eyes; kneeling down so that 'she' can embrace him gently, slender arms wrapped around a slender body.

Over the boy's shoulder, Jakotsu's eyes bore into his own, and he is horrified to see that nothing about the other man's expression has changed as he looks at Renkotsu.

Turning sharply away, he shakes off the sudden urge to embrace them himself, and walks back to Suikotsu to finish practicing.

Love can not defeat him, because he loves no one.

--

Today, he is teaching Kohaku about diplomacy with certain groups and how to handle their demands, but the thirteen year old is clearly distracted, though he is trying his best. Still, they cannot continue until whatever matter is on the boy's mind has been resolved, and so, he forces himself to stop.

"Where is your mind today? It seems to have found a much more interesting home than this lesson," he comments dryly, unimpressed by the boy's sudden fit of blushing.

"I'm, I'm terribly sorry sir, it's just that . . ." Kohaku trails off, eyes drifting to the open door. Renkotsu followed his gaze, and saw Jakotsu, talking politely with his older brother's wife, whom 'she' had managed to bond with, gradually. Though the woman is already in her late twenties, and Jakotsu is only twenty-two, they seem to have more than enough to talk about.

He sighs; of course. It always comes back to Jakotsu.

"What is it about your Okaa-san that bothers you?" he asks, eyes shut lightly, in hopes of blocking out the headache that is sure to be coming his way.

Jakotsu has bonded with the boy, in a way that Renkotsu had not anticipated, although Jakotsu often does suprising things, and when confronted about them, always just smiles that shut-eyed smile of his, which always ends the conversation instantly.

Kohaku seems to view Renkotsu's 'wife' as his new 'mother', despite knowing his true gender, and in turn, Jakotsu fully embraces his new role in life; while Renkotsu has the boy's respect, Jakotsu has his loyalty.

"It's just . . ." the boy hesitates, then pushes onward. "Sir, you know that Okaa-san loves you, right?"

The question surprises Renkotsu; he had not been aware that Jakotsu would confide such a secret to the child, nor that such knowledge would bother Kohaku so much.

"Yes." His answer is short, and simple; _hurry this up_, is the message. _I wish to move past this quickly_.

"Don't you love her?"

For a moment, Renkotsu is silent as he considers the question carefully. Does he love his 'wife'? Surely not; he hasn't allowed himself to love anything or anyone, not once in his life.

But the memory of the fire burns brightly in his memory, and he remember the panic at the thought of Jakotsu injured. Perhaps–?

He shakes his head, and dismisses the thought.

They return to the lesson, and the matter of love is not brought up between them for a very, very long time.

--

Renkotsu lies awake in bed, and thinks.

His son's question has disturbed him, and the idea hovers on the edge of all his other thoughts, seeping in, poisoning his mind with its single, unnerving message.

_What if?_

Tilting his head to the left, he looks carefully at the man beside him. Jakotsu's hair is loose and lies on the pillow, spread across the cloth like long strands of dark nori; his eyelashes are long, thick, black, and flutter against his pale cheeks like trembling butterflies; even in sleep, those gentle lips are curved upwards into that tender, loving smile.

_What if?_

Sitting upright, Renkotsu looks down at his 'wife', and remembers the tiny baby he first met, twenty-two years ago, looking up at him with those shining eyes, like dark pools of nothingness.

_What if?_

Reaching out with a careful hand, he tenderly brushes a stray strand of hair from his face, tucking it carefully behind her ear. He remembers when 'she' was three, and 'her' hair was a short, shining bob, with bangs that hid 'her' eyes from him when 'she' leaned forward to trace ripples across the pond.

_What-_

Suddenly, he realized that Jakotsu's eyes were open, and staring curiously at him, just like when he was eight and had made Renkotsu so uneasy with those eyes that seemed to look straight into his soul.

"I don't love you," he said abruptly, waiting to see if Jakotsu might begin to cry, or possibly try to argue.

To his surprise, the other man smiled, his eyes warm and gentle, face shining with joy.

"That's alright," whispered Jakotsu, sitting up to look his husband in the eye. "I love you enough for both of us."

* * *

Holy _Hell_ that was a long one. I just kept writing and writing and writing; I couldn't stop myself. It was so fricken' _cool_!

Anyway, I tried a new style out with this one, and I'm not so sure that I like it, but oh well.

And yes, I did just write a fic with Renkotsu and Jakotsu paired together. Traumatized? Too bad; I'm writin' more already, so toughen up!

Happy Holidays, y'all!

- Suzu


	4. Beautiful Memories

**Title: **Memory Keeper

**Rating: **PG

**Pairing/Characters/s: **Shichinintai, Bankotsu/Jakotsu

**Word Count: **993

**Warning/s: **Boys kissing boys. Lots of fluffy-ness ahead.

**Summary: **From what has been, to what is being, to what will be; three memories that revolve around one lone thing.

**Dedication: **For my stepmother, who taught me that romance can be sweet without being too horrifically fluffy. Thanks for putting up with me, and coming to see me even though you're divorcing Dad. I love you, and I always will.

**A/N: **It's way too late, but I wrote this for Undying Devotion's 2006 Fanfiction Royale. ;; The prompt was a combo theme: 22- hairpin, festival, "It's beautiful".

* * *

**i. **

Jakotsu's hair was always very, very long, because he wouldn't let anyone cut it, not even Bankotsu, not ever.

But by the time he was thirteen, his hair was too long for him to wear loose, and it refused to stay in the tie. Once, Bankotsu volunteered to braid it for him, but Jakotsu just smiled, a little sadly, and shook his head _no_.

Bankotsu remembers following Jakotsu to a festival; which one, he had no idea, but he was only ten, and he remembered holding Jakotsu's hand while they stared at all the fancy clothes and trinkets with wide eyes. People didn't notice them, and Jakotsu stole them some dumplings to eat while they explored.

Then someone noticed them, and they panicked and split up so that they could escape safely.

What happened next was a little fuzzy, but Bankotsu definitely remembered Jakotsu's face when they found each other again; nothing but wide, glowing eyes and flushed cheeks and messy black hair, set in a narrow, white face.

He remembered Jakotsu hugging him tightly, and then pulling himself back, ignoring Jakotsu's look, turning away to hide his blush as he thrust the hairpin into his friend's hands.

There was a silence, and then;

"It's beautiful."

And he had found himself with an armful of blushing Jakotsu, whose hands were shaking as they drew Bankotsu closer, and he'd held Jakotsu just as close.

He almost never saw Jakotsu without the hairpin again.

**ii.**

Bankotsu is seventeen, and he likes to watch Jakotsu when there are fireworks in the sky.

The light shines on his face, the colors dancing across his skin, and the explosions are reflected in those wide, shining black eyes. If the fireworks are bright enough, the light dances across the shiny surface of the hairpin, illuminating the butterflies printed on the blue china.

Jakotsu stares up at the sky, captivated, and when Bankotsu reaches up and lets down his hair, so that it hangs in a long, shining black rope down his back, he does not try to stop his leader. Bankotsu smoothes it, running his fingers through it until it lies flat; then he brushes it over one curved shoulder, exposing half that pale, smooth neck.

They watch the fireworks together as Bankotsu presses gentle kisses against Jakotsu and Jakotsu shudders with pleasure and whispers, _Bankotsu, please,_ and who is Bankotsu to deny him?

"It's beautiful," Jakotsu murmurs suddenly, and Bankotsu makes a noise of agreement; he doesn't know if Jakotsu's talking about the fireworks, the hairpin, the night, or everything at once, but to be honest, he could care less, because all he can see is Jakotsu right now.

And Jakotsu is more beautiful than anything else that Bankotsu can think of.

They watch fireworks together, and hold hands around the hairpin.

**iii.**

The old man will stand on the battlefield, looking from side to side at the destruction and ruin that will surround him, and he will shake his head, sadly, at the senselessness of it all.

Young children will be playing nearby, but they will not come near the old man, and so he will not care about them, nor about their parents, who will be hovering nearby, watching and gossiping idly.

_Did you hear?_ _The –_

_All dead; beheaded by the –_

_About time really, I mean –_

_But what about ghosts? Do you think –_

_Did you hear?_

_Did you hear?_

_Did you hear?_

He will sigh heavily, and shuffle slowly through the barren land, the heavy stick that he will use as a cane will poke cautiously through the clusters of stubborn grass and weeds.

As he walks, he will remember someone; a young boy, who grew up in his village when he was a young man himself, but was forced to run away because of who he was, and the company he kept. The memory will hound him relentlessly, until all he will be able to think about will be that boy, his hair pulled back, eyes bright and filled with energy . . .

Suddenly he will remember how the boy's blood spattered across the ground when his head separated from his slender neck, how his long black hair, wet from snow and tears, lay spread across the ground, matted with dark blood, and that memory will force him to stop for a moment, because he will need to weep a bit.

Memories will flood through his mind; some good, some bad, but all true, and all of them will be with that boy in them. Tears will stream down his cheeks, but he will continue to search: shuffling slowly along, poking through grass; occasionally he will get down on his knees, looking carefully under fallen bits of armor or branches.

Finally, a flash of blue will catch his eye, and, chuckling a bit in triumph, he will bend down and pick up the hairpin with shaking hands. He will look at it carefully, but it will not be damaged, and he will shake his head in wonder at the oddness of it all.

"You're still beautiful," he will laugh, unsure of why he's laughing, only sure that he simply has to.

Then, after a moment, he will shuffle slowly back to the village, and, with reverence in every movement, he will place the hairpin at the base of the Shichinin Tomb, a smile spread wide across his old, wrinkled face.

"I imagine," he will wheeze, his voice thin and cracked from years of use. "I imagine that you hold a good deal of memories, eh?"

There will, of course, be no response from the hairpin, but a faint breeze will swirl around him for a moment, and he will swear that he hears a voice whisper, _arigatou gozaimasu_.

Still chuckling softly to himself, the old man will shuffle slowly along the path back to his hut, leaving the pin behind him, a reflection of the last rays of the sun fading slowly on its polished surface.

* * *

And here we see Suzu trying out yet _another _new style. What'cha think? Is it any good?

Oh, sweet Jesus, you have no **clue** just how hard it was to write the old man in his "will " point of view. I swear, I hate that 'w' word now.

Yes, this is yet _another _Bankotsu/Jakotsu. So I like the pairing. I'm entitled to my ramblings on occasion.

Fine. I'm branching out soon. Next one, no Bankotsu. One after that, no Bankotsu _or_ Jakotsu.

Show me the love, dahlings!

- Suzu


	5. Black

**014. Black**

**Title: **Everything at Once

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing/Characters/s: **Suikotsu, Jakotsu, Shichinintai, hints of Kikyou/Suikotsu

**Word Count: **607

**Warning/s: **Crazy boys who do death for tea, mentions of death, minor angst

**Disclaimer:** I don't own this series. I don't own the Shichinintai. To be honest, I don't even own the charger my laptop is currently dependent on.

**Summary: **Black is the presence of every color in the spectrum, all together, all at once.

**A/N: **Right. Suikotsu; he kicks ass. People need to write more about the whole big brother thing he has with Jakotsu. Or maybe I'm really just totally psycho. Gah. Lack of sleep shortens my sentences and heightens my vocabulary.

* * *

When Suikotsu was sixteen, they read about light in school, and learned how white light is never pure, and about prisms, and how light reflected and refracted, but the most interesting thing by far was learning that black was created by the presence of every color in the spectrum, all together, all at once.

Of course, the next week, they'd started up biology, and light just utterly slipped his mind for the next few years.

Now, he's twenty-four, standing inside an old, well-worn ship with his little brother and their friends, and they're all flying off to a new planet because, hey, theirs has just up and died for no apparent reason.

He sighs and laughs a little as said little brother comes flying through the kitchen, a furious Renkotsu hot on his trail, screaming bloody murder and promising painful torture when he catches up with Jakotsu.

Jakotsu. The name makes the laughter die on his lips; his little brother should be learning about light or biology or geometry right now, not trying to survive out in the Black, about to start working as a God-only-knows-what so that they can survive.

_He's only sixteen,_ whimpers his mind. _And Bankotsu's only fifteen. They're just kids._

Except, he reminds himself, kids don't know at least thirty different ways to kill a man by the time they turn twelve. Kids don't smile when they see people cut themselves on accident.

Of course, most kids don't have a homicidal, schizophrenic big brother whose friends consist of a strategy-genius pyromaniac, a eight-foot tall eighteen year old who eats everything he sees, a guy whose body is mostly metal by this point, and a poison-obsessed rapist waiting to happen.

Jakotsu and Bankotsu are hardly kids.

But there's that tiny part of his brain that will always want to cuddle and pamper Jakotsu; the part that wants to wrap him up in cotton blankets and lock him away in a safe, safe place. Because no matter how dangerous or disillusioned or strange he gets, Jakotsu will always be his baby brother.

Suikotsu believes in that. He truly does.

There is so little left that he can.

His head aches from thinking about it, which is a bad sign, considering that he has no more pills, so he thinks about something safe. Or, at least he tries, but there aren't many safe things left to think about, these days.

So he thinks about Jakotsu.

He thinks about Jakotsu's almost irrational fearhatredphobiathing of women, which seems to be getting better, but with Jakotsu, it's always more of a guessing game than collecting data, as Kikyou likes to say.

The screaming has stopped, for now; he can hear Kikyou's soft voice scolding Jakotsu, who seems to be listening.

Good.

He keeps on thinking.

He thinks about the way his little brother likes to smile and laugh and play and slaughter, all at once, then skip back over to Suikotsu and beam up at him, saying, "Look, look, aniki! Aren't you proud of me?"

And because Suikotsu cannot lie, not to Jakotsu, he always says "Yes."

Jakotsu is bloodthirsty, childish, ruthless, optimistic, cold-hearted, a warm person, all at once, all the time. Sometimes, when he looks at his little brother, Suikotsu wonders if the schizophrenia runs in their family, and he cannot help but worry.

Still, Jakotsu shows no signs of splitting.

Starlight hits the window-glass, and he smiles broadly; there. That's the explanation.

Jakotsu is black: everything in the world, everything that anyone could possibly be, combined. All together, all at once.

And Suikotsu believes that they will be all right. All of them.

He truly does.

* * *

That . . . didn't turn out like I'd hoped.

And yet . . . somehow . . . I think it works.

-shrugs-

Anyway, I've updated, so . . . return the favor and review, lovlies!

- Suzu


End file.
